Faith
by Aqua-Dawn
Summary: Having barely survived the explosion that left him all alone, Mello has only one place left to turn to.  Can be seen as MxM or just friendship


I've read a lot of DN stories, but they hardly ever deal with Mello's religious part, so here is my version of what happened after the explosion.

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Mello gazed up at the small church, an echo from the past, torn and rugged. It had been crammed between the skyscrapers, almost hidden in their shadows, forgotten by man. Clutching his rosary to his chest he walked up the stairs, moving his feet ever so gently across the crumbling stone. To him it was as if stepping into a world that had been cut off from all the violence and death that oozed from the city, engulfing everyone, an ethereal place that radiated serenity. It was a sanctuary.

When he had been found by a minister as he lay in the rubbles, on the verge of death, in the inferno he himself had created, Mello had known that God had given him a second chance. Not a word of compliant, only gratitude had crossed his lips when the man had carried him to a chapel and nursed his wounds, despite the searing pain almost drowning him. Nor did he detest the marks that marred his face. They were a sign from God, a symbol for the life he had been given.

His soul had long since been stained by death and Mello's life had not changed since his revival, other than leaving him alone with no hope of ever catching Kira. But his trust in God had not faltered; only He could guide him now.

A leather clad hand reached out and touched the door and Mello could feel the roughness through his gloves. There were holes in it and splinters that had fallen off were crunched under his boots, turning into nothing but dust. It grieved him that no one had bothered to care for it, closing his eyes as he pushed it open.

He almost cursed in shock upon seeing how this holy place had been plundered. Everything of value had been taken, the statues had fallen and died against the cracked floor, the benches had crumbled and the painted windows had been shattered. Still, Mello could feel the presence God stronger than ever before, intensifying as he wandered towards the altar. There, the ceiling had given in, but a majestic tree had taken root among its remains and the light that was filtered through the thick branches shone on the single empty cross standing on the altar.

That was when he noticed the figure kneeling on the floor. The figure was hunched over, hands clasped together in prayer, only revealing a pair of heavy boots and jeans under a strange furry kind of jacket. Coming closer, Mello realized what he had believed to be the wind brushing through the leaves of the tree was the sound of hushed words, an endless prayer coming from the man before him.

The voice was cracked and he was now brutally aware of the sobs and the tremors that followed. Mello did not wish to disturb the man's privacy, but his feet refused to move, leaving him standing only a few feet behind him. Slowly he could distinguish the words and noticed the British undertone, so similar to his own.

"_Please…please just let me find him… I beg you… please…"_

How much time that passed as he stood there, watching the stranger as he repeated his prayers, Mello could not tell. It was as if he had stopped existing and become a part of the church, a piece of dust swirling through the air, unable to help the man before him. It was a strange sensation, the way he wanted to reach out his hand and comfort him, almost as if that had been his sole purpose of coming there.

With one last broken sob the man became quiet. The air seemed thicker in the silence that followed and Mello unconsciously held his breath. The man struggled to get back to his feet and turned around. He was younger that Mello had expected, only a year or two younger than himself. Upon seeing that he was not alone he flinched and hurriedly tried to wipe away the tears that were still running down his cheeks, but then his body went rigid, his face pale as if he had seen a ghost. Mello opened his mouth to give an excuse about not watching him at all that would probably have sounded ridiculous, when one word from the young man silenced him.

"Mello?"

A strange startled sound that Mello was not even aware that he could make escaped his lips in surprise of hearing his own name. Who – then it dawned upon him. That red, tousled hair falling into his eyes, the striped shirt, still too big for his scrawny frame, the goggles hanging around his neck, that face, so similar, yet so different.

"Matt?" he choked out, believing that maybe he too had seen a ghost.

How could it be true? Mello had done nothing to deserve it, the opposite rather, yet there stood the one person he knew would never betray him, the part of himself that had been left behind to be kept from harm, the part of his soul that would never be tainted. Was the man in front of him a sign from God, his chance to finally end everything, or were the heavens simply mocking him, throwing the only chance of ruining him into the eager claws of Kira?

A pair of arms threw themselves around him and he was swallowed by the red ocean that smelled like smoke. The warmth that encircled him like a cage, shielding him from the darkness within, forced him from the denial, dragging him from the abyss and shone upon him with merciless truth. It was Matt, not some wretched part of his mind trying to lure him with the impossible, Matt was there.

He wanted to curse the redhead, release the fury that was Mello upon him, torment him until he crawled back to the safety of England. But no words came. Instead his traitorous hands reached around the man, his fingers burying themselves in the striped fabric. How long had he waited for this moment, knowing that it would never arrive? He thought he had strangled it, suppressed the wish to see, to touch, to talk. The yearning had been kept clandestine in his heart for years, nothing but a ludicrous teenage dream in the hostile world of the mafia. And the gamer just had to waltz into his life, mercilessly tearing apart his efforts with his presence.

"I never thought I'd find you." Matt's voice was hoarse and Mello could hear the relief that dwelled within his words. "Maybe I should start believing in God." His chuckle resonated through his body and it only deepened when Mello's fist connected with his shoulder.

"You bastard." Mello muttered halfheartedly, not caring about the red strands that stuck to his lips. "You weren't supposed to find me."

"Yeah, I kind of figured." Matt stated and nuzzled his face into the blonde's hair. "Still found you though." He had and someone, preferably the obnoxious little boy that had, unintentionally, caused Mello more anguish than he would ever admit, needed to face the blonde's wrath.

"Did that twerp tell you I was in LA?" Mello gritted his teeth at the mere thought of his eternal, though self-proclaimed, rival.

"No." Matt sounded amused, using the same sly tone from all those years ago when he had, yet again, been victorious on one of those damned game consoles, stabbing Mello's ego with each syllable, the tone that had always left Mello wanting to dent the gamer's head with something hefty. "I hacked his computer."

"Remember to tell me to kill you later." Mello huffed, knowing that his mind would probably come up with an excellent idea of how the redhead could be useful, and why he should refrain from dumping him, beaten beyond recognition of course, in the nearest alley. But now, with Matt alive and breathing by his side, Mello let go of everything, even if only for a brief moment, and leaning into his touch, he could not help but let a smile trace his lips, because he knew that God had given him the sign he needed.

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I hope you liked it =3 please leave a comment so I know if there is something I need to think about with my writing


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